I made a big old-fashioned breakfast of biscuits, eggs,and baconthismorning. It was great fodder for some cute stuff from Jonas, like:

Wow, this is amazing cooking, Mom! Can I have a Sizzle-Rick? (rememberthe McD commercial for their breakfast biscuits, where a guy namedRick rewards himself for loading paper in the copier and the VoiceOverbooms, "Sizzle, Rick. Sizzle."?Jonas thinks the bacon-egg-&-cheesebiscuit is called a SizzleRick.)

We're having a really great time with my mom here. Jonas is justeating up the extra attention with a spoon! I'm sure he'll spout more"isms" over the next couple of days, so I'll try to jot them down. 🙂

Me: I didn’t almost forget it. I put it in the playgroup bag before we packed up.

Jonas [joining me in hallway at top of stairs]: OH, thank you, Mommy. You’re a gen’us.

***

🙂 (And yes, I do think it’s hilarious and slightly embarrassing that my 3 year old yells “Freakin’ Sakes!” It’s his new favorite phrase – I think he heard me say it once and it just really stuck. I’m just counting my lucky stars that he didn’t overhear something worse slip out — and yes, that means I just admitted that I sometimes have a pottymouth. I’m human, I make mistakes, what can I say?)

Jonas got a gift in the mail a couple of days ago. My maternal grandmother sent him a beautiful ceramic cross bank. While we were filling it with his coins, he asked what it said across the front.

“It says, ‘Jesus Loves Me.'”“Jesus loves me? Jesus helped Great-Granny get me this cross piggy bank? Oh, that is VERY nice!” He turned his face upward and toward his window, and called out, “Thank you Jesus!”Then he turned back to me, and said soberly, “Jesus lives in the sky.”“Oh no,” I said, “Jesus lives in your heart.”He points his index finger at his sternum, and tilts his head to one side like a quizzical puppy. “Jesus is in my belly?”I stifle my laugh and say, “No, it’s more like….. Jesus is in your THINKING heart. Where you make your decisions and feel your feelings.”He tilts his little blonde head again, fixes me with a blue-eyed stare, points his finger toward his noggin, and asks in utmost seriousness, “Jesus lives in my EYEBROWS!?”

Yes, Jonas. Jesus lives in your eyebrows. Dear reader, if you don’t know Him as your Savior, please ask Jesus into your eyebrows today. Behold, I stand at the crease of your nose and knock….

I don’t know if Jonas really recognizes himself in the mirror yet. When we ask him who that is, he will usually identify whoever is holding him (Mama! Dada!) and occasionally will say his word for baby (Bubba!). That’s the same word he uses to ID himself in photos, but he also uses it for any baby or young kid he sees in books or magazines or televistion…. so I don’t know if it counts as true recognition.

BUT – the other day, he asked to wear one of his hats. (Normally he rips those babies off as soon as I put them on – which causes me much Mama Anguish since he is so fair-haired and I’m afraid he’s going to end up with melanomas on his scalp from overexposure to the sun as an infant. But that’s beside the point.) I put the cap on him, and he walked down to the end of the bed to see himself in the mirror. He pointed at the hat and said “Bee bee” (it’s a Gymboree hat with a little Vespa scooter and the phrase “Beep beep” on it)…. and got this look of confusion and awe on his face when the kiddo in the mirror did the same thing.

Then he slowly raised one hand, palm facing out. Then the other. Then he signed “nurse…” “nurse…” “help…..” “bye……”, all the while looking shocked and amazed, and then excited, that the baby was signing back at him!

Background: I took the box of cereal out of the upper cabinet and realized it was getting stale, so I set it on the counter so I’d remember to throw it away. (Couldn’t put it in the trash can, because it would take up the whole space at the top.) Apparently, my son is taller than I realized, because when I went to sit at the computer desk he saw Clifford and reached up – got the box off the counter – and decided to have some cereal.

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I'm writing my first novel, mothering three kids, and loving one husband. I blog because I'm too loquacious for my own good. My verbal overflow ends up here. My life story is on top and 11 years of archives are below. If you have a few words to spare, I'd love to hear from you - drop me a comment!